As Fatigue Falls
by WastefulReverie
Summary: Danny's relationship with his parents is strained after the revelation - despite their initial acceptance, things were inevitably awkward. Things were going downhill, fast. He was just so tired all the time, apparently it didn't matter if he was fighting ghosts or studying… fatigue was a consequence of half-death.


**Birthday present for babypop-phantom on tumblr! Ceciliaspen drew the amazing cover art (check out the rest of her art, it's great!)**

* * *

Relationships are tricky. Not particularly romantic relationships, but relationships in general. For instance, familial relationships; even if your family _loves_ you, they can still be a bitch. And Danny… was far too aware of that. Sure, after he accidentally revealed himself in an alley ‒ not his _finest _moment ‒ his parents accepted him. They ruffled his hair and whispered assurances, "_We'd never hurt you, Danno…_" They wrapped his wounds and tucked him into bed, stressing their regrets. Hell, they even helped balance his commitments by taking on some of the lesser ghost attacks!

They were so, _so _supportive ‒ more than he could ask for. All should be well, right?

Well, reality was bitter. Even when everything should be alright, even when his family was _trying_, their relationship was strained. It wasn't that his parents didn't trust him (no, no they _understood _why he lied), they were just having trouble adjusting to their new family dynamic. And it's not like he could blame them, he _got it_. He wasn't their normal son anymore, he was an inhuman thing that fought other inhuman things… and that wouldn't just resolve itself. It's not like his parents could just ignore his abnormal tendencies, his obsessive nature, his powers….

Everything was different now and it was his fault. Their family relationship was in tatters and he didn't know how to even address it, forget mending it! Awkward dinners and stray stares… avoiding physical contact…. His Mom's sharp cough when he phased through the wall….

Not to mention, even though his parents were trying to help lessen his load, nothing felt different. He was stressed, overexerted. He was fighting fewer ghosts and spending more time on school, yet he was still _exhausted_. His grades were still shit and he was still a mess! Did his parents' efforts even matter? Was it worth putting them on the line ‒ letting them fight _his_ fights ‒ if his grades didn't improve? He was just so _tired_ all the time, apparently it didn't matter if he was fighting ghosts or studying… fatigue was a consequence of half-death.

Weeks passed with little change. He was still failing all his classes and he could hardly stay awake, even though he only fought ghosts once or twice a day. He didn't confront his parents… he didn't know how to tell them that this wasn't working. He didn't know how to admit that he wanted it to go back to the way it was before. If he was going to fail, either way, he'd at least want to fight ghosts in lieu of them ‒ but how do you spring that on someone? They didn't talk much about his other half, so it wasn't exactly easy to bring up.

He considered asking Jazz for help, but she wouldn't understand. Jazz would insist that he just needed like a tutor or something, but that wasn't it. Danny understood the class material ‒ he just couldn't stay awake enough to do any work! And Sam and Tucker… they could only offer so much. Sam suggested he needed vitamins (_thanks,_ Sam) and Tucker recommended a sleep management app. Admittedly, he tried the sleep app for a week but it didn't do much; he'd go off schedule and have to reset everything. He ended up rage deleting it.

After a while, it felt like he slept more than anything else. Exhaustion seeped into his entire being and muddled his thoughts. School became a blur and home felt suffocating. He wanted to reach out, tell his parents that he didn't want them to hunt ghosts anymore. That was _his_ responsibility and they had to stay _safe_. But he couldn't bring himself to… so he crashed on the couch, or on his bed. And he let sleep consume his worries because that's all he could do. (It was consuming him one way or another.)

Another failed assignment... Dash shoved him in the hallway... a ghost fight before dinner. That was tiring, he settled for a nap before his homework. Actually, no it wasn't a nap… and he slept through his alarm. Damn. Late for school, again. He must've drifted off again… Mr. Lancer shook him awake. Tucker said Paulina posted it on Snapchat (_"__lol when is fenton awake?"_). At home, his parents caught a ghost on the news. Not long after, he fell asleep on the couch and woke up in bed. And slept through his alarm _again‒_

And then, he was laying on his back, staring up at a tiled ceiling. The specks in the tiles floated, circling his vision and expanding as a starburst. Something crinkled below him when he moved, like paper? His head throbbed, and the specks in his peripheral vision returned… everything felt drowsy. Where was he? Why was he here?

"‒...I know this isn't a question that parents like being asked but… do you know if he does any sort of drugs? Not to insinuate, but‒!"

A woman ‒ _Mom _‒ growled, "Danny does _not_ do drugs. He's a good kid."

"I'm sorry for asking. It's only odd ‒ passing out like this is usually not without precedent. If Danny _does _have a problem, we just want to help. It really worried us when we couldn't find his pulse!"

"His pulse is fine, though," Dad countered. "You found it later."

He'd passed out? At school? So that meant this must be the nurse's office… well, that explained the paper sheet he was laying on; this was an exam bed. It also explained why everything smelled like bleach wipes.

"Well, we did find his pulse ‒ but it was very faint."

"Danny's resting pulse is a bit slow, it's just genetic," Mom assured.

_Sure_. Everything about his medical diagnostics was crazy weird, but at least Mom was trying.

Danny pushed himself into a sitting position. His sloppy movement drew the attention of the adults and suddenly he was surrounded.

"Danno!" Dad announced. His dad pulled him into a hug and patted him on the shoulder, "Had us worried when you wouldn't wake up. Fell asleep in class and passed out cold!" He broke into an explanation. "Those football players had to carry you here because nobody could getcha to wake up, even your spooky girlfriend co‒"

"Stop overwhelming him, Jack," Mom intervened. "He's confused."

"Well, that's why I'm telling him!"

"_Jack_."

"How long was I out?" Danny asked. There was a clock on the wall but his mind was far too muddled to read analog right now. That and he didn't know when he fell asleep….

"Well, they called us about two hours ago but we just arrived," Jack recalled. "So about two-and-a-half hours? Is that right, Mads?"

Mom nodded. "We were grocery shopping," she elaborated. "But we're here now. Are you feeling okay, sweetie? Do you know why you passed out?"

_No idea_.

Danny shrugged. "I've just been… really tired lately. Guess my body just wanted some extra rest."

"Son," Dad hesitated, "your teacher said that you often sleep in class. Are you sure this isn't because of anything…" he struggled for words, "you're doing outside of class that makes you tired?"

What did that mean? They _knew_ he stopped hunting ghosts full-time. But… then again, he was a ghost. They didn't know for _sure _that he'd stopped, he could always be fooling them somehow with duplication. Even though he wasn't.

"No," he shook his head. The gesture made his world throb again. "I've really just been exhausted."

Mom bit her lip. "You sleep so much at home, though. _Something_ must be causing this."

"It could be a fever," the nurse suggested. She lagged behind his parents, curly hair tied into a bun. Her cheeks were sullen and her lipstick was a stale rose. "Now that he's awake we can take his temperature."

Danny's eyes widened. His body temperature was several degrees below hypothermic ‒ she couldn't do that. Then she would see, see what a _freak_ he is and he wouldn't be able to explain. Thankfully, Mom and Dad were here (despite how… awkward this was).

"I don't think that's necessary," Mom interjected, steadily eyeing the nurse. "I don't trust digital thermometers, mercury thermometers are more accurate. I'd like to take his temperature at home if that's okay?"

The nurse bristled. "Yes, that _is_ okay, but‒"

"Good!" Dad bellowed. "Then Danno here's ready to be checked out!"

"Well, you'll have to go to the attendance de‒"

Dad moved forward, scooping his arms around Danny. "Ready, son?" he asked, readying himself to hoist his son.

Danny flinched. Why was he _touching _him? Dad didn't touch him anymore, not since the reveal…. Sure, maybe he was fatigued or something but he was still _fine_. "I can ‒ I can walk, Dad," he shrugged off.

Dad faltered. Mom drew in a loud breath and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Let him walk Jack, he's tired, not ill."

Dad nodded. "Yeah, yeah I know."

Danny wasn't ill, but being a ghost was enough of an impairment in his father's eyes. Even if he did his best to hide it, Dad's true feelings were evident….

* * *

Once they were home, Danny's parents _ordered_ him to the lab. In the car, they'd discussed how worrisome his chronic exhaustion was. And so, Danny recounted his sleep schedule ‒ he admitted how often he slept in school, at home, at Tucker's house, at the Nasty Burger…. He yearned to tell them more, to confess his poor grades and _beg_ them to stop hunting ghosts. But now wasn't the time, obviously. (But… it's _never_ the time.)

Danny hadn't been in the lab in a few weeks. He wasn't permitted to enter without parental guidance so he didn't hurt himself, which was reasonable, but sorta annoying. Not much had changed, which he expected. But there were… a _few _less deadly weapons strapped to the wall, which was vaguely reassuring. He knew that his parents disassembled anything that was especially dangerous for him so he appreciated that.

Mom pulled out a metal stool while Dad cleaned off their workstation. Danny sat on the stool and watched his parents scramble, searching for appropriate equipment. He tapped his foot against the tile and wondered if this was all worth it. "I don't see why this is a big deal," he protested. "I'm just _tired_. This doesn't mean it's my ‒ uh, ghost side is wrong or anything."

Mom glanced from a box of medical equipment. "Oh, we know sweetie. This exhaustion problem seems like it's causing you trouble, so it's just good to be cautious. Besides, it's not like we can take you to an actual doctor." She paused, "I don't think."

Danny blushed, "Nope. No real doctors, ever again." Why did she have to remind him? Today was destined to be the half-death of him.

"Aha!" Dad declared. "I found it!"

Mom winced, holding a hand to her head. "Inside voice, Jack," she chastised.

"Sorry," he apologized. "But I found my old glucose meter. I remember back when I had diabetes I'd get fatigued, so it's worth a shot!"

Danny tilted his head. "You had diabetes?" He knew his Dad didn't have the best eating habits, but he never thought it was so serious. No wonder Mom forced him on diets, even though Dad tended to reach for sweets.

"Oh, yeah," Dad fidgeted with the device. "I had it up until eight years ago. Injections aren't fun, I'll tell you that son!" he laughed. Well… Danny already knew _that_ courtesy of Vlad.

Mom frowned, "Honey, I don't think he needs his blood sugar tested."

Dad shrugged, "It won't hurt to cross it off the list. We'll cross off all the regular stuff before we get into checking his ghost side."

"I guess that's true?" Danny agreed. He'd rather sit through a _normal_ check-up than let his parents examine his ghost side.

Dad kneeled down in front of Danny's stool. He showed Danny where to put his finger on the glucose meter and turned it on. "It'll be just a pinprick," he warned. He pressed the button and Danny felt nothing… had the device worked? There wasn't any blood on his finger either, so it must've glitched.

Dad furrowed his brow. "I swear… I swear I saw the needle prick your finger, though," he observed.

_Oh. _The device had worked, but….

"I think his skin's a little too tough," Mom addressed. "We'll have to prick it ourselves." She reached behind her and waved a scalpel.

The scalpel complemented her hand far too well. The metal slid in her fingers, glinting under the fluorescents of the lab… _the lab_? Mom's goggles were red and dripped malice ‒ her true eyes belonged to her other face, his mother. These empty red eyes belonged to Maddie Fenton, scientist. And she was holding a scalpel, in the lab. And he was on a stool, a ghost.

Reflexively, Danny dipped into intangibility. He couldn't ‒ couldn't think straight. Mom _wouldn't_ hurt him, she accepted him (albeit awkwardly). But she wouldn't do anything, right? Maddie Fenton, scientist, _retired_ from harming her son! He was irrational, paranoid, _scared_‒

And _why_ was he still scared? It had been months since the reveal! Was he really still this damaged?

He'd thought… their family dynamic was suffering because Mom and Dad were having trouble _adjusting_ to his inhumanity. But that wasn't _all_ ‒ he was scared of them as much as they were scared of his ghost-half. He'd been waiting for them to adjust, to heal, to build a bridge… but it took two sides to build a bridge. And he'd left his parents to do all the work.

As fast as he'd phased, Danny released his intangibility. He found her eyes and behind her goggles, Danny sensed… unbridled shame._She knew_. Mom pursed her lips and lowered the scalpel, pressing it close to her own body as a silent assurance.

"‒good thing we're always prepared, right Mads!" Dad clapped, none the wiser.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she passed him the scalpel.

Dad turned to Danny. "Alright son, do you wanna do it or should I?"

Danny didn't want him to. The idea of Dad drawing his blood shook his core, even if it was just a drop. It would be so easy to say it, but… trust had to start somewhere, didn't it? "You can do it," Danny allowed. He cracked a false grin, "Just make it quick."

Dad slid the scalpel over Danny's index finger and pricked it _just_ enough. They slid his blood onto the slider and waited. Dad read the meter and squinted, "If I remember correctly, this is bad."

Danny bit his lip, "Bad?"

"Your blood sugar shouldn't be this low. I don't know why it _would_ be. Diabetes is when you have high blood sugar, right? Because your body doesn't produce enough insulin, that's what I had. But… low blood sugar, that's _worse_. That means you're producing too much insulin or your energy's being completely depleted!" Dad cut off and mumbled, "Why is your body depleting this much energy?"

"His ghost side," Mom offered. "His ghost side could be stealing his human side's energy?"

Danny crossed his arms. "I don't think it's like _that_. My body is still one body, I'm half-ghost but that doesn't mean that I have two separate 'sides' fighting over energy."

"Well, yes and no," Mom specified. "Your entire body is a complicated mess, sweetie."

"Joy," Danny remarked.

She winced and corrected herself, "You're a hybrid but there's still _some _division of your anatomy."

"That's right!" Dad agreed, picking up a notepad. "And now we know what the problem is! For some reason, your body isn't getting enough energy so you're burning up your energy reserves."

"Does that mean I'm like… starved?" Danny asked.

"You shouldn't be," Dad shook his head. "I gotta say, sometimes you eat more than I do ‒ I'm sure you're getting enough food! If I had to guess, I'd bet that your ghostliness is draining so much energy. Ghosts sustain on _a lot _of it! You're only getting your energy from human food, which isn't much."

"So he needs to absorb energy like a ghost," Mom deduced. "Human food isn't giving him enough energy, so he needs to eat like a ghost."

Danny's eyes widened. _Eat… like a ghost?_ "Wh ‒ what does that mean?"

"Well, you have a number of options," Dad said. "Ghosts can absorb different types of energy. Most ghosts get their energy from the Ghost Zone by absorbing ambient ectoplasm, but since you live _here_ you can't really do that. It takes time to replenish energy. Others can eat emotional energy (usually negative emotions) like that Spectra lady. But I don't know if you can do that ‒ we've gathered only some ghosts have that skill.

"And then there's the energy you get from fulfilling your obsession, but that's like… that's like snack energy. It isn't really much, not very helpful. I figure you've lasted this long on that energy alone. Oh! And the reason you're so fatigued now is because you're fighting less ghosts!" Dad realized.

Danny blushed. "Can… we not talk about my obsession?" Obsessions were private. He didn't like it when people addressed his obsession. But it did make sense; this exhaustion started when his parents started sharing his ghost hunting duties. His obsession was _suffering_.

"Oh, sorry Danno," Dad cringed.

"So what does that leave, Jack?" Mom asked. "He can't live in the Ghost Zone, he can't eat emotions, and obsessive energy isn't sufficient."

"Well…" Dad pondered. "There's something else we can try, but uh… I don't know if you'll like it."

Danny grasped the bottom of the stool. "What is it?"

Dad gulped and turned to the table behind him. He pulled open a drawer and found an opaque vial and shook it around, sloshing whatever was inside. "Purified ectoplasm," Dad scrunched his nose. "Nasty stuff, but healthy for ghosts."

Danny stared. "I have to _eat _that." He was pretty sure he could smell it from there; a nasty aroma of raw sewage, burnt lemons, and battery acid.

"It'll help you?" Mom offered.

"Nuh uh," he shook his head. "That's _nasty_." Not to mention inhuman. Humans didn't just _eat_ otherworldly chemicals ‒ that was savage and everything he didn't want to be in front of his parents. His gut wrenched with the thought of eating that.

"I don't think there's another option, son," Dad deflated.

"Wh ‒ what about emotions?" he tried. "We don't know for sure that I can't eat those!" But would he really want to? Would he be content with feeding off of negative energy, draining people's happiness? And would he be able to _stop_? No, if anything he'd eat the ectoplasm… despite its grotesque appeal and belittling implications.

And he wasn't prepared for that.

Against his better judgment, Danny vanished. He wouldn't let his parents persuade him to eat it… _just yet._

* * *

Danny descended down the stairs for dinner; he'd found refuge in his room for a few hours, but hunger was beginning to grate against his conscious. When he entered the kitchen, he expected to find Mom hovering over the stove or setting the table, but instead, she and Dad were sitting at the table. Their backs were turned to him, but he could read their body language ‒ they were waiting. _On him._

Shit. He still wasn't ready. In his room, he'd repressed thinking about ectoplasm ‒ he'd curled into his beanbag and listened to a few 'therapeutic' rock songs Sam introduced him to. It was a good mental break, but not nearly enough time to come to terms with _that_.

Before he could fly back to his room, Dad addressed his presence. "Hey there Danno," he turned in his chair, "we just ordered a pizza, wanna sit down?"

It was a simple question but Danny didn't feel like he had an option. His voice cracked when he spoke, "Sure."

He sat across from his parents and avoided eye contact. Instead, he traced his fingers along the table, carefully touching the grooves in the wood. They didn't speak nor insist that he _needed_ to drink ectoplasm for his health ‒ no heavy sighs, no rigid instructions. He met their eyes and found that they were calm, open, and passive… if they were still concerned they did an adequate job of hiding it.

Maybe he _could _avoid this confrontation a little longer.

"So, what kind of pizza did you order?" he tested the waters.

Mom rolled her eyes. "Well," she elbowed Dad, "your Dad was a _heathen _and insisted on pineapple‒"

"Pineapple's good!" Dad protested. "Tomato's a fruit, it goes _well_ with pineapple!"

"Ew," Danny scrunched his nose.

"Agreed," Mom seconded.

"Jazz likes it!" Dad defended. "If she were here, she'd be on my side!"

"Well, she's not," Mom crossed her arms. "So now Danny and I have to smell your gross pineapple pizza while we eat pepperoni."

And like that, the atmosphere was suddenly lighter. The pressure on Danny's shoulders was alleviated and he didn't feel like he was being _forced_ into anything. His parents were just being goofballs about pizza, this wasn't a deliberate ambush or anything. (He hoped.)

"‒doesn't smell bad, you're just picky!"

"I beg to differ," Mom countered.

After a moment or so, Danny joined their playful bickering. They teased each other about pizza and other silly things, putting earlier events behind them. Soon enough, their food arrived ‒ Mom and Danny set the table and Dad tipped the delivery guy. Despite Mom's dirty looks, Danny's hunger got the best of him and he dug into his food like a starving animal. Hell, by the time Dad started his second slice Danny had already scarfed down his _fourth_.

"Woah there, Danno," Dad chuckled. "Slow down a bit."

"So‒ry, Dad," Danny savored the last bite of his fifth slice. "'m‒ungry."

"I'd say," Mom muttered.

Danny held conversation with his parents while they finished their food, but after a few minutes, his stomach started to feel warm and heavy. His head felt sleepy and it was a labor to keep it up ‒ he'd rather just rest it on the table. He tried his best to stay awake, but this food coma was overwhelming… he slumped his head and tuned out his parents' voices….

The table's surface was rigid and this position was _horrible_ for his neck, but everything felt better. Sleep was a blessing.

"‒anny," someone touched his shoulder. "Danny, wake up."

"Mmph," he moaned. Being awake was too much work, sleeping was… easier.

Mom nudged his shoulder again, "Come on, sleepy-head. We have something for you."

"'m not sleepyhead," he protested. She hadn't called him that since elementary school….

"Prove it, then," she joked.

"Ugh," he opened his eyes. "Fine."

The table had been cleared. Their plates had been put away and the pizza boxes had been placed in the fridge ‒ they must have let him rest while they cleaned. He felt a little guilty since he usually liked to help with those chores. His parents didn't deserve to do all the work while he dozed off… he just couldn't help it, though.

Dad was still sitting at the table ‒ eyeing Danny carefully. And suddenly, Danny realized that something was _off_ about this. After dinner, Dad usually made a beeline to watch Jeopardy ‒ it was one of his daily rituals. So why was he just _looking_ at him like that? Why was Mom standing behind him? And why did everything smell like burnt lemons ‒ _oh. _Oh no.

He immediately felt betrayed. This entire 'wholesome family pizza dinner' was just a ploy, or some backward-reward to guilt him into cooperating. He didn't want to eat the ectoplasm, but they had him where they wanted him. And even if he ran… they'd try it again. And again. Until he couldn't refuse them until he couldn't fight back.

They had his best interest in mind, he appreciated that. But he didn't want this for himself, even if it was the only way. Because eating ectoplasm was feral, inhuman, _nasty_. He wasn't even sure if normal ghosts _ate_ ectoplasm ‒ he'd be even more of a freak! He didn't want to be reduced to that.

Mom drew her hand forward and placed a glass of gurgling, green ectoplasm on the table. Danny's eyes clouded with revulsion and he repressed a gagging noise. He could _feel_ bile rising in his throat; everything in him rejected the idea of eating that. It wasn't right, it _so_ wasn't right‒

"We thought you'd like to have something on your stomach before drinking that," Mom admitted. "We know that it's… gross. But we _want_ you to be healthy ‒ you need something to replenish your energy and this will help you!"

Danny grimaced. They were right, but at what cost?

It hurt him more, that they were watching him. He wasn't human, he knew that ‒ he could conquer his inhuman quirks and accept himself. But Mom and Dad… they were still averse to his ghost side. He was still afraid to perform something so inhuman in front of them, he was afraid to do it _himself_!

He was just…

But earlier, hadn't he realized that he couldn't do this anymore? That he had to start _trusting _his parents when it came to these situations. Sure, the thing with the scalpel had been different but it was all the same principle. He needed to stop fighting this blame-game and admit the truth to himself. He _wanted_ his parents to wholly accept him on their behalf but he didn't want to put any work in!

_‒__afraid_.

That's what he was. Ectoplasm was disgusting, yeah. And he was definitely uncomfortable with eating it, it was vile and foul… yet, his parents knew that. They were okay with the notion of their son eating this, they were even pleading him to eat it. If they were okay with this and his abject inhumanity, why couldn't he? Besides, he had to do this sooner or later lest he be exhausted for the rest of his existence.

Danny's hand was shaking. His emotions still weren't on the same page as his mind, but he had to do it. Mom and Dad were watching him, steadily analyzing his actions. They were okay with this, or at least they were pretending to be fine. He could pretend too _‒ _he could pretend that this _wasn't_ ectoplasm, that it was only juice. Yeah, this isn't ectoplasm, it's juice! Just juice, juice, juice… (Nope, _definitely _ectoplasm.)

He reached for the glass and carefully wrapped his fingers around it. The glass was cool, chilled by the otherworldly composition of the ectoplasm. This was almost strange... when he wrapped his fingers around the glass, the ectoplasm stilled and ceased churning. It was like the substance itself could sense his presence, taming itself for him. With this phenomenon, Mom audibly gulped, but he ignored her… he couldn't turn back.

He picked up the glass and it was lighter than he expected. He supposed that ectoplasm didn't have much mass, which explained why he lost weight after the accident but it was still weird to acknowledge. His parents stared and he was suddenly aware of his heartbeat, beating _‒ __throbbing_ in his ears. He swallowed a lump in his throat, biting back the bile he regurgitated. (It's just _juice_, you can _do this_.)

It still smelled like raw sewage, burnt lemons, and battery acid, but Danny brought the glass to his lips. No, no, no, no_‒_

He tilted the glass back and drank.

Initially, it wasn't as bad as he anticipated. It tasted weird, but not a bad weird? Really, the only part he didn't like was the texture _‒ _it was kinda slimy with gooey chunks mixed in? And really cold, that was for sure. But the flavor… it tasted like raw meat (good, juicy meat) and honey, but it was also tangy? No, it wasn't really bad. Huh.

Though, it still smelled disgusting. It smelled like death, which was appropriate in some ways.

Once he realized that it didn't taste _so_ bad, Danny downed all the ectoplasm. He chugged the entire glass in a few seconds and placed it back on the table. And when he swallowed… it's like his core _hummed_. His body immediately accepted the energy and he felt a rush of euphoria _‒_ his ghost half wanted more. This felt so good it was almost _wrong_, so why was he so hesitant before? Mmmm this felt good.

"Danny?" Dad asked. "H _‒_ how was it?"

Danny looked back at his parents. Mom winced before reorienting herself, gesturing to her eyes. "Danny, your eyes," she motioned.

"Huh?" he asked. Then he realized, they must be glowing. _Right_. They did that sometimes. Especially when his core was this happy….

"They're green," Mom explained, when he didn't respond.

"Oh, right." They weren't supposed to be green because his parents were still uncomfortable with that, even if they didn't say it. He blinked until his eyes faded back to blue. "That was… actually decent," he recalled.

He actually wanted more. Would they let him have more?

"Oh," Dad said. "What did it taste like?"

"Meat and honey," he responded. His parents seemed apprehensive, worried.

"Well, do you feel better?" Mom wondered.

"Yeah, a lot," he nodded. His core felt rejuvenated and fresh _‒_ he could go for some more ectoplasm, actually. Sure, it was weird and not really human but it made him feel amazing, so… yeah. "Is there any more?"

His parents blinked, stupefied.

"You want more?" Dad raised a brow.

Danny shrugged. Maybe he shouldn't seem _too_ eager.

"I'm not sure," Mom frowned. "I know you said that you feel better, but we don't want to overdose you or anything."

Yeah, that was a fair point.

"We can record your energy levels and determine how much ectoplasm is healthy for your diet," Dad suggested. "It will probably only take a few weeks to get accurate readings!"

"That sounds good," Danny agreed. That implied that he'd be eating more ectoplasm and he liked that idea.

"I suppose that works?" Mom conceded.

"I'm glad we got this figured out!" Dad grinned. "Now you won't be tired all the time, Danno!"

Danny laughed. That's right, he'd almost forgotten about that! Now his ghost side wouldn't be _starved_ all the time.

"Thanks for helping me," he smiled. He really did appreciate it; they'd pushed him in a good direction, despite his resistance. He'd trusted them and it all worked out… maybe with a little more trust, they could figure out everything else too. They could resolve all the tension in their family dynamic… for real.

"You're welcome, sweetie," Mom ruffled his hair

His parents were so, _so _supportive ‒ more than he could ask for. And all _would _be well.


End file.
